


3

by Mel_Suzanne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cheating, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_Suzanne/pseuds/Mel_Suzanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three years since he came into her life; she's still trying to decide if it's a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3

**Author's Note:**

> I usually don't write/read stories of this nature, but it popped into my head and ended up taking it's own wheel (so to speak.) I literally woke up this morning, thought of this prompt and then sat down and wrote it. I love to write angst, obviously; I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and enough people like it, perhaps I can write a chapter 2 from Killian's perspective. :)

_Three years…_

The thought of it made Emma Swan sick to her stomach. Then again, thinking about going three years _without_ the weight of his body on hers, his sensual lips grazing her neck, his hot breath whispering sweet nothings into her ear as he climaxed...well that made her feel miserable too.

Wasn’t the pattern supposed to be simple? Find your soulmate, fall in love, get married, have children and die? Why could nothing in her life be predictable and easy?

 _“If he’s even really your soulmate_ ,” her brain teased, trying to get a rise out of her - of that Emma was sure. Her entire body knew about the love she had for this man, her brain wasn’t an exception. Of course he was her soulmate, she wouldn’t have done this for _three fucking years_ if he wasn’t.

“Earth to Swan; come in Swan,” the voice laughed lightly beside her, “where’s your head at, love?”

He lightly moved a stray hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. This action made her heart swell, but failed to catch the ounce of regret that dropped to the pit of her stomach - she had to have at least 2 pints brewing down there by now.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned that she hadn’t responded to him yet. How was she supposed to respond to that question? If she lied, he would know; he always could read her like a worn-out library book (which coincidentally was also how she felt at the moment.) Or she could just tell the truth and ruin what had previously been, sickness aside, a beautiful “anniversary.”

“Just tell me what’s wrong and I can make you feel better,” he pulled her into her arms and for a moment, she felt at peace, the monster raging inside her had finally quenched its need for self-loathing.. But, as if the universe knew she was happy for once, the moonlight shone through the window above them, illuminating the thin, gold band resting on his nightstand reminding her that this - whatever _this_ was - was all wrong.

“Seriously, Emma,” he sat up this time, looming over her with a stern expression. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing; I’m just...feeling sick to my stomach is all.” She managed to squeeze out the half-truth and closed her eyes to pray that he wouldn’t push it any further. 

“The boat’s never bothered you before, love,” he laid back down, arms behind his head and Emma felt even guiltier. “Do you want to leave? Cut our evening short?”

_Did she?_

She shook her head ‘no’ as a shaky breath escaped her lips; tears were on the horizon, she could feel them burning in her eyes. “ _Keep it down,”_ she tried to tell her brain, but it was obviously being a cunt that evening.

As expected, her lover was on the floor by her bedside, cradling her face, at the sound of the first sniffle. He was so sweet; _God,_ why did he have to be?! 

“Emma, why are you so sad?” His beautiful blue eyes bore into hers searching for answers, she felt the weight of his curiousity pile onto her, making it even more difficult to breathe. He always had that effect on her - the ability to make her feel exactly what he was feeling with just one look.

“Are you...? I mean, you’re sick...emotional...are you?” He stuttered the words out, wide-eyed and fearful, causing Emma to glower. 

“No, I’m not pregnant,” she responded tersely, the question - more so the expression on his face at the mere _thought_ of his world having to change - angered her. She actually had been once...not that he’d ever known about it. “I know better.”

“I wasn’t trying to upset you - wait, what do you mean ‘you know better’?”

He was standing up now, crossing his arms, preparing for the fight that more than _anything else_ , Emma didn’t want to have.

“Goddamnit, Killian,” and the tears began to pour down her face, ruining the makeup that she’d carefully applied mere hours before, back when the evening had potential.

Who was she kidding...this night was always going to be a disaster.

“I know better than to alter our ‘arrangement’.”

Hearing the words leave her mouth, calling it what is _was_ instead of what she _wanted it to be_ , shocked her. And it shocked him, too, as he stood in front of her speechless.

“Now, who’s being silent…” Emma rolled her eyes, she knew she was being petty and passive aggressive but didn’t care in the moment. She flipped her body away from Killian and crawled out of the bed. This “date” was obviously over; she needed to get out before she broke down and lost her will to leave. It always happened that way.

She slipped her little black dress back onto her body, foregoing her underwear. She didn’t even know where her bra and panties had ended up, but fuck it. She could always buy more.

“Please don’t leave.”

She stopped in her tracks, the desperation made his voice almost unrecognizable.

“If you leave tonight, like this, I know I’ll never see you again.” She wanted to look at him, tell him that he was wrong, but she couldn’t. 

And why should she? 

“You’re afraid of losing me _now_?” She asked, searching under his clothing for her heels. “I doubt it would take you long to recover.” The thought of him moving on, seeing anyone else, fucking some other woman - even his wife - made her blood boil. “You still have Milah, after all.”

Before she knew what was happening, she was being yanked backyard causing her to collide into Killian’s chest. He was warm, his heart was beating a million miles per minute, his chest hair still moist with sweat. The lock he had on her wrist was soon forgotten, instead of battling to break free, she was battling to get closer.

“If you honestly believe I could _ever_ recover from you, Emma Swan, then you don’t know me at all.”

She pressed her face into his chest, inhaling his pheromones as if they were a rare perfume.

“Maybe I don’t,” she cried, “maybe I shouldn’t want to anymore.”

She felt his lungs shutter as his breathing grew ragged; she kept her face planted against his chest, holding him as tightly as she could.

“I don’t blame you, love,” he rubbed his cheeks against the top of her head. “I know our relationship isn’t ideal…”

“Arrangement,” she corrected. 

“No,” he pushed her off him and the lack of his heat made her shiver. “Stop saying that - you’re doing it to hurt me - it’s working.”

“ _You’re_ hurting? I’ve spent the last three years of my life pouring my damaged heart into a ‘relationship’ with an unavailable man. It’s making me hate myself.”

“I’ve never been unavailable to you.”

“Married, Killian. You’re fucking married or have you conveniently forgotten?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, something he only did when he was truly frustrated. When he let out a guttural scream, Emma jumped.

“That’s what this is about then? Yeah?" 

“Obviously.”

He took a deep breath. “You told me that it wasn’t an issue.”

“She loves you; she’s your wife.”

“I don’t bloody care if she loves me, Swan!” Killian yelled. “I love _you_ and she knows that.”

Emma shook her head.

“Don’t you dare do that,” he walked over to her. “Don’t you dare shut me out right now.”

Emma looked up at his bloodshot eyes, he’d been crying.

“It’s hard.” Was all she could say.

“You think this is what I wanted? The life I imagined?” He sniffed, her heart officially broke. “I didn’t know you when I agreed to marry Milah; if I had…” he stopped his sentence. “Well, you already know that answer." 

She did.

“I’m trying to be a good man, Emma. You don’t think I want to file for divorce, break my promise and then sail away with you into the metaphorical sunset? I think about it _every. goddamn. day_. I know that being with me isn’t easy; I understand if you decide you don’t want to see me anymore. But don’t cheapen our relationship by trying to depreciate my feelings for you, because I assure you that when you walk out of my life, you will be taking my heart with you.”

“I never wanted you to have to put your life on hold, least of all for me. I want to marry you, have a beautiful, white picket home and children...a family. But I give into those desires and Milah loses _her_ son, _her_ life. I just keep trying to look for loopholes, but I can’t…” Killian plops down onto the bed, his body sagging with defeat. “It’s no use. I made my bed five years ago and now I’m having to lie in it.”

Emma gently sat down beside him and placed her hand on his knee, prompting him to grab it. “I love you, Killian.”

She could feel him tense up, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but she held onto it. At least for tonight. She leaned up and gave him a kiss, meant to be chaste, but he sighed and deepened it once he was confident that it wasn’t a goodbye.

  
_Three years..._


End file.
